What happened that day was just a minor episode in Scott's student life, and he soon put it out of his mind.
Although he had seen right through Miss Travers at a glance. To his senses, her magic was distinctly different from that of an ordinary young wizard—
A wizard who had killed someone with their own hands had subtle changes in their magic.
Those changes could not be hidden.
That was something Scott had noticed after awakening his Magic Perception and observing many wizards.
If he were to paint a portrait of Miss Travers's magic, there would be a black-and-red "scar" across it.
It would not be very conspicuous, but it would seem out of place.
Scott had no intention of finding out why an eleven-year-old girl had already killed someone.
He was no Auror.
As long as she did not make trouble for him, he had no time to waste on something that had nothing to do with him.
Still, seeing the girl inevitably reminded Scott of Professor Flitwick.
The professor had never killed anyone. Scott actually found that rather surprising.
That noon, Scott and his two roommates left the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom and headed for the Great Hall to eat.
"Milton?"
In the corridor, Scott and Roger noticed that Milton had fallen behind and turned around. They were both startled.
Milton was staring blankly ahead, shuffling along with no energy. His once-sleek long hair was now a little disheveled, and he looked just like an Inferius that had lost its soul.
The Hufflepuff students who had been in class with him passed by and couldn't help snickering.
"Hey! Cheer up, Milton!"
Roger went back, put an arm around Milton's shoulder, and hurried him along.
Scott smiled helplessly and followed.
In class, Professor Lockhart had singled Milton out to stand at the front of the room and play the banshee in his book Break with a Banshee. His reason was that Milton had "the sleekest hair in the entire classroom."
It seemed that the performance had hit Milton hard.
"I knew it!" Roger complained loudly. "What I said on the train came true, Scott! Our Professor Lockhart really is even worse at being a teacher than Quirrell!"
A Ravenclaw walking beside them immediately chimed in. "You're right, Roger! Just look at what that idiot did in class! Huh? No Magical Theory, no practical magic, just a silly little play!"
At that, Milton let out a loud sob.
"Oh, I wasn't talking about you, Milton," the boy hastily added. "I mean... well... anyway, you did a great job."
"Give it a rest, Dylan!" A girl strode over, fuming. "Lockhart is utterly useless, Merlin! And to think I was looking forward to his classes before term started, because his novels are pretty good! Poor Milton—you should just refuse next time!"
A few Hufflepuff girls passing by immediately took offense at what she said.
"Kayla White! How dare you bad-mouth Professor Lockhart behind his back!"
"Professor Lockhart just hasn't gotten used to teaching yet!"
"Do you know how hard Professor Lockhart works? Just look at those masterpieces in your hands!"
"Kayla is obviously right! You idiots!"
Dylan hurriedly stepped in front of Kayla, and the group began arguing over one another.
Scott took one look at the scene, grabbed Roger and Milton, and hurried away.
"I can't believe that Lockhart bloke has so many admirers!" Roger made a gagging face. "Those girls must have been blinded by his idiotic smile!"
"He certainly knows how to present himself."
Scott saw that Milton still couldn't perk up and tried to comfort him. "Milton, maybe you'd rather get out of everyone's sight for a while? You could go back to the dormitory and get some rest."
Roger added, "Don't worry. We'll bring you lunch."
Milton sobbed again. "Oh! Yes, I need to get away from everyone for a while. Thank you!"
After thanking them, he hurried off toward Ravenclaw Tower.
Watching him go, Scott said to Roger, "Lockhart seems to have a habit of fixating on someone. As far as I know, a second-year Gryffindor who mocked his Cornish Pixies in the first Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson has been picked to perform in every class since."
"Did Milton do something to offend him?" Roger asked, confused.
"No, Milton has already offended him," Scott said helplessly. "Milton thinks Lockhart's lessons have sullied the art of theater. You know he's never good at hiding his feelings. Lockhart must have noticed that look in his eyes."
"That look?" Roger's expression changed. "I get it. Milton's look of contempt!"
Milton had given him that look before, and he still remembered it all too well.
"Roger, for Milton's sake—and for the sake of peace in our dormitory..."
Scott patted Roger on the shoulder.
"Next Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson, you should volunteer to take Milton's place."
"Why me?"
"Because you're the most handsome of the four boys in our dormitory."
"Oh! Since you put it that way... all right!"
As they entered the Great Hall, Scott suddenly stopped and looked down at the space beneath the staircase in the Entrance Hall.
"What is it?"
Roger followed Scott's gaze, then let out a low whistle.
"Huh? That boy's a first-year, right? He's standing there whispering with three girls like they're close friends. Maybe he'll soon have more ex-girlfriends than I do!"
"Something's not right." Scott's gaze turned cold. "Jacob Kent. Caitlin Rowle. If you remember, those two first-years clashed on the first day of term. Caitlin Rowle accused Jacob Kent of pushing her down the spiral staircase in Ravenclaw Tower."
Roger said in surprise, "But now those two are hanging out together? And there are two Slytherin girls with them?"
Scott's brow furrowed. "The blonde Slytherin girl is Jasmine Travers."
"Her?"
Roger looked surprised.
Eddie had eventually been unable to resist telling Roger about Scott's veiled remarks concerning Jasmine Travers.
"What do you mean?" he asked Scott.
"I'm afraid there was more to what happened on the first day of term than it seemed," Scott said. "That girl, Jasmine Travers, was probably involved."
Just then, Travers looked up from beneath the stairs and met Scott's eyes once again.
Scott paid no attention to the polite, distant smile on her face. At that moment, it was as if his gaze pierced her pupils and saw into her heart.
The girl immediately dropped her smile and lowered her head to avoid Scott's gaze.
"Jacob."
Scott called the boy's name.
"Mr. Trollope."
Jacob looked up and greeted Scott politely.
"It's lunchtime," Scott said.
"Yes, thank you for reminding me." Jacob smiled.
Watching the boy's expression, Scott lowered his eyelids. He said nothing more, only nodded, then turned and walked into the Great Hall.
"What's wrong?" Roger followed him and asked quietly.
"That boy has changed."
Scott murmured the words without further explanation and walked straight to the Ravenclaw table.
Roger sat down beside him. "Scott?"
"I'll tell you later."
Scott shook his head and began eating.
But the furrow between his brows never went away.
Before you continue